


i see you (see me)

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [112]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, oh fluff? yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 09:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: If Hermann is going to kiss Newt and then expect that he just forget about it, he's sorely mistaken.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [112]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 1
Kudos: 70





	i see you (see me)

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Hello! Would you be willing to write this prompt? "If Hermann wanted to dance around the subject then Newt could do the goddamn tango. But he was still going to get his way today.""

“I love you,” Newt says; half drunk on adrenaline and high off of nearly dying too fucking many times; clings to Hermann like a limpet.

Hermann turns; arm still thrown around his shoulder; tight; blinks. “Oh!” he says; after a moment, and flounders; eyes bright. “Oh!” again. “Well,” he licks his lips. “Er. Perhaps we ought to revisit this issue tomorrow, when we’re both less—” He stops, looking to Newt.

Newt blinks back; laughs, then. “Yeah, probably,” he agrees; and that’s the last they say of it.

They go back to Newt’s rooms; they’re closer, really, so it makes sense; they’re both dead-tired and kinda out of it a little bit. A lot a bit. Some.

Hermann’s leaning against him heavily; grip on his cane white-knuckled as well. “I should go back to mine,” Hermann mutters; half-muffled into his neck.

“It’s _late,_” Newt protests.

“I really ought to,” Hermann insists; gaze heavy on Newt’s; leaning, evermore strongly, into him.

“Stay,” Newt says; “it’s past three in the morning.”

“Newton,” Hermann says; exasperated; and tilts his head to catch Newt’s lips; tired and sloppy. “Now shush,” he says, breaking away; “goodnight.” And with that, he detaches himself from Newt and disappears down the hallway.

Newt stands, stock-still, wondering what the hell just happened, and more awake than he’s been in days.

* * *

He’s pretty sure he imagined it, honestly, waking up in the morning, the scent of blood fresh on his memory—and his skin—, and the unnatural quiet that’s probably from a good portion of the shatterdome personnel tending to hangovers from a night spent celebrating the world not ending.

After all, in what world would _Hermann Gottlieb_ kiss _Newton Geiszler?_

None. The answer is none.

Still; the memory of it, clumsy and nearly without thought, sticks with him; sends his hands skittering against the grain of the welding joining the metal of the table into one; thick and gravy even through his gloves.

Hermann’s not in yet.

Newt’s mind churns with possibilities; of thoughts of Hermann, laying facedown on the floor, passed out because something happened; worse, yet, the thought that he may be dead because of the Drift—the Drift with _Newt!_

The thought chills Newt’s blood.

He casts a look around the lab; peels off his gloves—

The door creaks open. “Newton,” Hermann greets; calmly as ever. “_Where_ is my chalk?”

Newt glances over at the other’s boards. “Uh…” he stops. “You’re running late,” he says; instead of _I was worried about you,_ because that sounds too—_something_ he’s not willing to acknowledges just now.

“I overslept my alarm,” Hermann says; strides over to his desk. “Ah!” he exclaims, after a moment; pulls out a new box of chalk. “Oh—”

“Last night,” Newt blurts out, without thinking, because, quite fucking frankly, he can barely think about anything else right now.

Hermann’s gaze locks with his; for a moment, flashing something unrecognisable. “Yes, well, I’m sure it was a—_lapse of judgement,_” he says, “now, if you’d excuse me, I _do_ still have work to attend to, even if we’re no longer about to die in a kaiju attack.”

And that’s that; a dismissal—or, it would be, if Newt couldn’t see (and _feel,_ thanks, Drift bleed, lovely sensation there) the slight tightening around Hermann’s lips; the way his eyes shadow; pain, but not physical. And, you know, he’s spent a decade with the dude—now that he’s put together the signs, he can’t exactly _unsee_ it.

He doesn’t _want_ to unsee it, either; though Hermann seems to think he does.

“_Hermann,_” he tries again, but the scrape of chalk cuts him off; deliberate, Newt _knows;_ because that’s who Hermann is; he’ll do practically anything to avoid a conversation he’s uncertain the outcome of; and the thing is—hell, most days, Newt would be right up there with him, avoiding it, but—

He doesn’t _fucking_ want to. Not today; not so soon after they almost just died.

If Hermann wants to dance around the subject then Newt can do the goddamn tango. But he is still going to get his way today.

“Hermann,” he says; slaps his gloves down on the table and strides over to the other’s ladder. “Hermann!”

“_What?_” Hermann snaps, peevishly.

“You and I need to talk, dude,” Newt says; meets his gaze head-on. Hermann snaps his gaze off towards the floor almost instantaneously; no longer writing, his fingers fidget with the chalk. “Look, I know I’m not usually the sort of person to, uh, be very aware of myself, let alone anyone else, but—”

“Whatever it is,” Hermann interrupts, “I’d _appreciate_ if you refrained from pushing against my ladder.”

“Oh!” Newt exclaims; pulls back, sheepishly. “Uh. Sorry. Anyway, I was saying—I’m not fucking blind, Herms—I know you kissed me last night, and I _know_ you meant it.”

"I…” Hermann stops; jaw working; thinking, Newt knows. Will he face the facts? Or will he continue to pretend like there’s nothing between the two of them—that his feelings aren’t there as much as Newt’s are? If he does, Newt’ll respect it—of course he will; he’s not a dick; if Hermann doesn’t want anything to come of it, then fine; but at least he’d like Hermann to _acknowledge_ it.

Finally, he says, “Well—I suppose you’ve caught me out.”

Newt laughs; high, a bit on edge. “Caught you out,” he repeats, “dude, _you_ kissed me after I told you I was maybe kinda in love with you!”

Hermann flushes; ears going red. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he says defensively.

“Uh, you could say that,” Newt huffs; ignores Hermann’s glare. “Anyway, what’s the verdict, doc?”

“Well—” Hermann pauses; sets his chalk down and steps down until he’s level with Newt. “Well,” he says; again, glancing Newt over; one hand gripping against the side of the ladder for support, “I’d rather like to kiss you again, if you don’t mind, Newton.”

Newt squeaks. “I—no,” he sputters, “I, uh—no, I really _don’t_ mind.”

Hermann smiles; relief, Newt realises; he was more anxious than he let on. “Alright,” he says, “come here, Newton.”

Newt does; steps up closer, until they’re less than an arm’s length apart. Hermann reaches out with his free hand to tilt Newt’s head up; leans forward, kissing him softly; hand drifting down to rest over his heart. “Is that verdict enough for you?” he asks, after a moment.

Newt grins; wide. “Love you too, Herms,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](autisticharrow.tumblr.com) on tumblr


End file.
